Attachment
by LuvEwan
Summary: Qui-Gon Jinn will do what he must, but what he does is not always right, or without consequence. AU.


**Attachment**

By LuvEwan

* * *

It was dark.

"You should eat something." The voice was gentle, worried, still frayed from the ordeal so recently over.

 _Over_. Yes, it was over. These last few days so many things were over, endings he had not foreseen. Because he was a fool, an old fool, and in trusting his fool instincts he…

"I'm fine." He mumbled back. He stared out into the darkness, where even the pinpoints of distant stars gave off only a frail and fleeting light. His hand drifted to the saber hilt hanging from his belt. His fingers found the grooves, almost as familiar as those worn into his own weapon, and for a moment he imagined they were still warm. But the warmth was in his eyes, a hot, unbidden sting of moisture he blinked away. "Leave me, please."

"Qui-Gon…" Tahl sighed, ignoring his command by drawing closer. He could smell her honeyed skin beneath the grime and blood. She touched his shoulder, his hair. "They did everything they could—"

The Jedi Master bowed his head, leaning heavily upon the console. "But I did not."

She offered no argument. He listened to Tahl's soft departing footsteps, and for the first time in his life, did not desire to follow her.

Their ship hurtled through space, towards Coruscant, towards the Temple and a reckoning he both dreaded and deserved.

* * *

It was appropriate that he should burst into the hallowed chambers just as night edged over the daylight, casting long shadows across the cold marble floors and cool stone faces of the Jedi Council.

Qui-Gon felt the concern and irritation emanating from his twelve fellow Jedi. It was their standard reaction whenever he appeared before the Order's highest-ranking members, his reputation forever preceding him. Now all those rebellious episodes, the flouting of rules and questioning of regulation, seemed so meaningless. To think he was once, albeit privately, proud of that maverick status.

"Masters," he bowed, "Forgive me, but I must speak to you at once." He realized several members were staring at his tunics, and glancing down he caught the damning rust stains of dried blood among the beige and cream layers.

"Master Qui-Gon, most unusual this is," Yoda peered at him over his gnarled gimer stick, unaffected, "Rare, it is, for you to willingly this Council seek."

Qui-Gon looked into Yoda's patient, knowing eyes, the pale green-water eyes most Jedi could count among their first memories, and he was undone. He took two steps forward before sinking to his knees before the ancient Master. " I am here to be censured." His voice cracked. "I abandoned the Jedi Code on my last mission. I…I shirked duty out of a selfish attachment, and in doing so….abandoned my apprentice."

Now they knew. He could not bear to write in a mission report what needed to be spoken, aloud and plainly. He unclipped the second hilt from beneath his robes and set it before the head Councilor. He was the last person who should keep it.

Mace Windu, sitting beside Yoda, surged forward. "Master Jinn," Alarm had crept into the man's usually detached baritone, " _Qui-Gon_ , what are you talking about? Where is your apprentice?"

Qui-Gon gathered a shuddering breath. He knew, if Obi-Wan were here, he would be aghast at his Master's behavior, the lack of decorum, the scorched and bloodied uniform. It seemed impossible that when he turned his head, he would not find his Padawan there, disapproving and yet resigned, his steady presence ultimately supportive. Because although Obi-Wan was often the first, and most eager, person to lament Qui-Gon's eccentricities, he was also his teacher's fervent, constant defender.

Today he would have no one to uphold his too-wild spirit before the Council. He swallowed thickly. "Obi-Wan is dead. I am responsible."

He did not allow himself to be shielded from the uproar. He endured the murmurs, the glares and even worse, the expressions of shock from those among the Council who knew his apprentice.

Master Windu held up a hand. "Enough!" The bellow silenced the chambers. His dark gaze leveled on Qui-Gon. "You will immediately explain to this Council the _exact_ circumstances of Padawan Kenobi's death."

Hearing the bluntness, the finality of it… _Padawan Kenobi's death…._ somehow made it seem less real. Any moment this ludicrous scene would dissolve, and he would startle awake back on New Apsolon and savor that rush of relief, knowing his worst fears only came true in unkind dreamscapes. How could Obi-Wan be dead? He was only nineteen, and besides, they had a half-finished game of sabaac waiting in their quarters, and Obi-Wan wanted to work on refining the Rain kata-

"Master Qui-Gon!"

He knew it was Master Windu again, but he could only hear the title as Obi-Wan had last spoken it, _screamed_ it in desperate confusion. And then, later, the feeble " _Master"_ falling from slack lips, without a trace of anything but affection, for Obi-Wan had excused his mentor's shortsighted impulses to the end.

 _The very end_. Qui-Gon artlessly picked himself up from the floor, and told the Council everything about the mission to New Apsolon.

* * *

When the details were fleshed out, in all their stark betrayal and ugly gore, Qui-Gon did not wait for a formal reaction from the Council. The suitable punishment was clear. He placed his lightsaber beside Obi-Wan's at Yoda's feet. "I think it is only right that I should be banished from the Jedi Order. I disgraced my station and failed in my essential duty as a Jedi Master…to protect my apprentice."

Yoda harrumphed, dropping down from his seat and retrieving Qui-Gon's weapon. "Lost one Jedi already, we have. Afford to lose another, we cannot." Instead of handing the hilt over to Qui-Gon, the tiny Grand Master tucked it beneath his own robes. "Even a foolish one."

Qui-Gon shook his head and kneeled, once again, before Yoda. "Please, I _cannot,_ Master, not after what I…"

"And your wants, above all others, should be priority?" Yoda chuckled, but it was humorless, and he pushed a clawed finger into Qui-Gon's chest. "Want to escape your actions, you do. Walk away from the Order, after dealing it this blow."

"No," Qui-Gon swore, "I am not fit-"

"Fit for many things, you still are, Master Qui-Gon. And many more, in time."

Suddenly Obi-Wan's saber was in Yoda's hand, and that hand extended towards Qui-Gon, offering, _demanding._

Qui-Gon took a step backward, breath hitching in his chest. He thought of Obi-Wan, in a sweeter past, leaving the ice caves of Ilum, triumphantly clutching his new and hard-earned saber crystals.

" _A Jedi cares not for possessions," Qui-Gon explained, guiding his young student by the shoulder towards their waiting ship. A frigid breeze nearly stole the words, and he felt Obi-Wan huddle closer to him. The child was unaccustomed to such chill. "And so we have very few in this life. But your weapon," he wrapped his hand around Obi-Wan's, the crystals pressed securely between them, "Is yours forever. Take good care of it, and it will see you through, from your first missions to your knighthood. And when you have your own Padawan, someday."_

 _Obi-Wan smiled up at him. "I can't imagine having my own Padawan." He admitted, and laughed._

 _Qui-Gon plucked a snowdrop from the freshly shorn hair, though a dozen more replaced it. "Indeed, that is very far from now."_

" _I can't even imagine being a Knight." The boy shrugged. "I guess it's like you said, so far away."_

 _Qui-Gon gripped Obi-Wan's shoulder. He motioned for his Padawan to look out at the white expanse smothering the horizon. "Right now we cannot even see beyond our noses, but we know there is more out there, don't we? We only have to be patient, and make the journey."_

Qui-Gon stared down at the saber that would never accompany Obi-Wan on another assignment, never fight through the Trials or be held in reverence during his knighting ceremony. Numb fingers finally extended, clasping the hilt. No, he was not meant to be the keeper of this weapon, but the pain of doing so was meant completely for him. He cradled it to his chest and dragged his burning eyes back to Yoda. "I failed him, Master…" A sick dawning rolled in his stomach. "And he is buried on an alien world, away from the Temple…."

Yoda tapped him, but it was a milder, even compassionate touch. "Fret over corporeal matters, we do not. Alive, Padawan Kenobi is, here, " again he poked Qui-Gon's chest, over his heart, "and in the Force, always."

Qui-Gon nodded, even if he did not quite believe it. He had searched the Force for his fallen student, spent hours in meditation, and came up empty. Perhaps Obi-Wan's essence was too deep in that perfect embrace, shielded purposely from his Master, who after all was the source of his tortured fate. "Yes, Master."

Yoda frowned, loose brow furrowed, eyes nearly closed. "To the Temple on Alaris Prime, you will go. To atone and relinquish your burdens to the Force."

Qui-Gon bowed, exhausted now to the point of obedience. "Yes, Master. "

He was not searching for sympathy in the guarded faces of the Council as he left the Chambers, and he did not receive any.

* * *

He slipped into the small room in the healer's ward, finding Tahl resting in bed. He was glad to see only one tube trailing from her arm. She sensed his arrival, of course, pulling herself upright. The elegant Master smoothed the blankets around her waist, and turned sightless eyes to Qui-Gon. "You're leaving", she concluded, in a tone that revealed nothing of her feelings. "When?"

Qui-Gon sat on the edge of the cot. "As soon as possible. The Temple on Alaris Prime."

She coughed, then winced, and he helped her recline back against the pillows. Shame lanced through him. "I'm sorry I was not more help to you on the way back."

Tahl stroked his hand. "I was fine. I _am_ fine."

A pregnant silence fell between them, because Obi-Wan was not another part of the ward recovering, was not _fine_ at all. Qui-Gon smiled, folding her thin hand within his, and grazing them with his trembling lips. "I chose his death, Tahl." He choked, "I left him to die."

Tahl's fine features knotted in dismay. "Qui-Gon, I know you think—"

"I could not abide losing you. I saw you there, and knew that something terrible would happen to you if I didn't act quickly. My… _love_ for you," and how ironic that this was the first time he had said it, now that it didn't matter, "made me follow you, when I knew he was outnumbered."

Tahl pulled him wordlessly into her arms, resting his head against her breast. He listened to her heartbeat, felt it in the deepest, stupid part of him that still yearned. That rhythm became footsteps, falling hard and fast, chasing his desire, leaving duty and an innocent life behind him. Another beat, another step, another blaster bolt. This was what attachment had reaped. "When I come back, _if_ I come back," he whispered, "I cannot do this anymore."

She ignored the personal implications of his statement, releasing him, blind gaze still somehow bright with worry. " _If_ you come back? Qui-Gon, you must know that this is not what Obi-Wan would want."

Qui-Gon kissed her cheek. He stood from the bed and started for the door. "I know. But it seems my wants are only ever what matters to me."

In a few hours, he was aboard the little beater ship to Alaris Prime. It was a fast departure, as he brought nothing save the clothes he already wore, Obi-Wan's lightsaber and some packaged rations. He tried stopping by their— _his_ —quarters, but could not make it over the threshold.

He knew a memorial was being planned; selfishly he made certain to be gone before nightfall brought the heartbroken throng of Obi-Wan's teachers, acquaintances, friends. How could he burn a candle for his apprentice when it was he snuffed out that light? The Council would not tell his secrets, and he could not play the devastated, faultless Master to hundreds of mourners.

Qui-Gon sat in the cockpit, not looking at the vacant copilot's chair. Sometime later, he dimly acknowledged a need for the fresher.

The facilities were cramped. After relieving himself, he bent over the miniscule sink, and found himself staring back at his reflection, a sight unseen since New Apsolon.

His overgrown beard was bedraggled and his hair was little better. Without his telltale attire, he could easily be mistaken for a street beggar.

" _Master, you have brambles in your hair. The King-"_

" _Has surely seen brambles before, Padawan."_

Qui-Gon's eyes roamed to his tunics. They smelled of stale blaster smoke. He touched a bloodstain. It looked too old.

" _At least straighten out your tabards!" Obi-Wan implored. Despite their tussle with the gundarks, he was already impeccable again. He'd even shined his boots with the juice from a plump aluu leaf. "What impression will we leave upon the royal family?"_

 _Qui-Gon answered by capturing the younger man in a headlock and ruthlessly mussing his hair, ratting the ends of the tidy Padawan braid._

" _Master! Let me go!"_

 _Qui-Gon acquiesced, after tugging Obi-Wan's belt into a lopsided slant for good measure. "We will show them that we are capable and skilled…and that appearances are not everything."_

He spent the next hour polishing Obi-Wan's lightsaber, until it gleamed even in the sallow ship light, utterly impeccable.


End file.
